


Obsessive

by pure_nostalgia



Category: Jacksepticeye RPF, Markiplier RPF, Septiplier - Fandom, Youtube RPF
Genre: Beating Mental Illness, Can see other people's illnesses, Darkiplier - Freeform, Depression, Fluff, Getting Help, Jack doesn't know that tho when he meets him, Jack is schizophrenic, Light Angst, M/M, Mark has OCD, Mental Illness, Mental Support, OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Romance, Sassy Antisepticeye, Schizophrenia, antisepticeye, but also has a cool ability, stay strong everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7644523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pure_nostalgia/pseuds/pure_nostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark has fought with severe OCD all of his life. Now, upon meeting a handsome, bubbly, Irish man named Jack, his whole world will get turned upside down. But how will Jack react to his obsessive-compulsions?</p><p>Jack, on the other hand, has an issue of his own. Schizophrenia. But little does Mark know, Jack's disability has its own advantage - he can see other people's mental illnesses outside of themselves in the form of people next to them. (Jack sees his schizophrenia as Anti outside of himself, and sees Mark's OCD as Dark). Is he really as crazy as everyone says? Or can he find a way to use his ability to help others?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If Only He Knew

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've seen a lot of Septiplier fics that deal with mental illnesses, and I've really come across some of those that I love, but I haven't really seen any that deal specifically with OCD? Maybe I just haven't come across them, they're probably out there XD But either way, I thought it would be an interesting concept to write about and thought in the end it could make for a cute fic. And hey, who knows, it might also raise some awareness. Idk if it's any good, but tell me what ya'll think?
> 
> Enjoy :)

Mark steadily drummed his fingers against the table of his booth. _One._ _Two. Three._

"Alright sir, your number is four, we'll call you soon," the cashier told a man at the counter. Mark tapped his fingers a fourth time against the table. _Four._  
"Okay, thank you." The man smiled politely and grabbed the number card off the counter and retreated to his table.

 _Finally,_ Mark thought, sitting a few tables away. He had been waiting fifteen minutes just for someone to be the fourth person to order. He made sure to tap his fingers a fifth time before he stood up to go order for himself. _Five._  
He started walking over, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed a man with green hair who also began making his way to the counter. Mark hurried his pace, knowing he just had to make it there before the other man did.

With superhuman speed, he briskly walked up to the counter just before the other man.

"In a rush, huh?" The other man questioned, clearly having noticed Mark's break-neck speed to the counter.

Not really paying much attention, Mark mumbled a joking "Something like that," before placing his order. Mark paid the lady behind the counter, and in return she handed him the card he'd been waiting for. "Okay sir, we'll have your order ready soon, just listen for the number five."  
"Thank you very much," Mark beamed.

He quickly stuffed his wallet back into his pocket turned around sharply, accidentally colliding with the green-haired man and nearly knocking him over. "Whoa there, be careful," the man said as Mark stepped back. He was slightly caught off guard by the unexpected Irish accent the other man's voice carried.

"Sorry, are you alright?" Mark apologized, only now taking a look at the man's features. He definitely had an unusual appearance. Shining blue eyes stood out in contrast to a flop of green hair strewed upon his head. Somehow the dye color seemed to suit him, though. It looked nice, except for that one strand sticking out the opposite way against his part. That one strand right there. That one strand. That one-  
"Oh, I'm fine. I'm Jack, by the way." The man interrupted Mark's thoughts and stuck out his hand for a handshake.

Mark internally froze. _Fuck._

Trying to seem as relaxed as possible, Mark returned the gesture with a firm handshake and a smile. "I'm Mark." As soon as their hands may contact, he felt the overwhelming desire to grow scrub his hands thoroughly.   
"Well, it's nice ta meet ya."  
"You too, and sorry again," Mark said as he quickly made his way back to his booth. After setting his number card down, he made his way to the men's restroom. 

He headed straight for the sinks and washed his hands religiously for exactly thirty seconds and dried them for exactly ten. _Just right._ Mark looked up into the mirror and sighed. Why was he like this? Surely other people simply went about their day not caring what number they got, how many times they did something, little hairs out of place, or obsess over the germs that could be seeping into their skin. Why did things have to be just right?

He had been like this for as long as he could remember. Ever since he was a child, he couldn't even stand playing with the other kids. Not because he particularly disliked them, but because they would mess up the things he had sought out to do just right. When he built a tower of blocks, young Mark would reset the same block five times just to make sure that his tower wouldn't fall. It had to be perfect. He didn't need other kids coming messing up his hard work or else he would have to do it all over again. 

Growing up, it had started out as always obsessing over little things. Blocks, his handwriting, school projects, food...the list goes on. None of it really seemed to be a concern. However, Mark noticed that as he grew older these little things began to escalate to things on a larger scale. They became more than just odd habits, they became...necessary.

All these little rituals he enacted had become part of his daily life. He could live with them, but to anyone else...? They must seem crazy. _I must be crazy._  Mark sighed.

He left the bathroom and made his way back to his seat, only to find the man named Jack setting his food down on his table for him. 

"Oh hey, they called out yer number while you were in the restroom, so I went ahead and got yer food fer ya," Jack happily announced. "I hope you don't mind?"

"Oh no, not at all. Thank you," Mark said politely as he sat down. 

Jack stood their awkwardly, shifting his weight on either foot.   
"Hey, listen. I- I noticed ya when ya walked in, and I uh...well, I thought ye were cute. I was actually tryin' ta figure out a way ta talk to ya, so I thought maybe we could talk in line or somethin'. But uh...that didn't quite go as planned, as you could tell..." Jack sheepishly chuckled.

Mark's eyes widened in disbelief. _Is he...is he trying to ask me out?_ Mark hadn't ever been asked out by a guy before. Not that he had a problem with guys, but usually when people met him they became freaked out by his OCD. This guy had no idea yet...

"Soo, I was thinkin' that maybe we could have a better conversation over dinner or somethin'...?" Jack finished with a hopeful ring in his voice.

Mark made looked up into the Irish man's baby blues and couldn't help but notice how genuine and sincere they looked. How could he say no to that?

"Yeah, that sounds nice. I'd like that," Mark agreed.

A big, goofy grin spread across Jack's face. "Th-That's great! Uh- I mean, psshhh that's cool," Jack tried to play it off, provoking a silly chuckle from Mark. _What a wonderful doof._  

"So uh," Jack began as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, "could I have yer number then?" 

Mark smiled as he gently took the phone from Jack and began entering in the new contact information. After his number was typed in, a cheeky idea grew into Mark's mind. _What should my contact name be?  
_ He tried to hide his smirk as he typed 'DaddyMark' into the slot. Of course, he had to re-type it a few times to make sure it felt just right. 

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Ya sure are typin' a lot over there."

Mark laughed as he saved the contact and locked Jack's phone. "Just trying to come up with a good contact name."

"Oh Jaesus, what did ya put??" 

"You'll see."

"Oh, I see how it is," the green-haired man snickered. "Guess I'll text ya later then?"

"I look forward to it!" Mark exclaimed. Jack smiled and nodded before walking away back to his own table where his friends were expectantly awaiting him.

Mark looked down at the plate of food before him and lazily moved it around with his fork. He had know idea what he was going to do about Jack. What would he do if he found out about his OCD? He'd probably be like most people and simply brush it off at first, thinking it's just some silly little neat-freak tendencies or something. That's what most of the people that Mark had encountered assumed, anyway. 

What had he just gotten himself into?

 


	2. Let's Try This Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark tries to combat to his OCD while on his cute date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa!! You guys are amazing!! I'm so glad ya'll are liking it and I read all the comments and they make me so happy ^_^ Sorry for a late update but thanks a ton guys :D

The early rays of a Saturday morning shone out of the sides of Mark's bedroom curtains. It had been a couple day since Mark's encounter with Jack, and any thoughts concerning the Irish man had slipped into the back of his mind.

He had been in the middle of a good dream that he quickly forgot once he was awoken by his phone going off.

Mark gently stirred awake and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, he spotted his phone lit up on his nightstand. With a cranky grunt he willed himself not to fall back asleep and check his phone. _It could be important, at whatever time it is in the morning,_ he thought to himself.

Mark lazily outstretched his arm and felt around on his nightstand, his fingers searching for the familiar curve of his glasses.  
Once he had them on and could actually make out the hands on the clock on his wall, he saw that it was 6:30. _Who would text me at this early hour??_

 **Oh. My god.** Delivered at 6:28 a.m.

Mark blankly stared at the message in his sleepy confusion. _An unknown number? Must be a wrong number at this early in-_

 **"DaddyMark?! Really?"** Delivered at 6:31 a.m.

Mark's face quickly broke out into a grin as his head flooded with memories of that goofy green-haired man from the cafe.

M: **There a problem?**

J: **No, but it was a definite surprise you cheeky bastard**

M: **You're welcome ;)**

J: **Jesus. What am I going to do with you?**

M: **Take me on a date, hopefully**

J: **That I will. How's tonight work for you?**

M: **I'd say it works pretty well!**

J: **Ok cool! There's this nice little quiet place downtown we should go, I think you'd like it!**

Mark felt his cheeks grow sore from his continuous smile. He hadn't smiled this much from a person in a long time.

Jack gave Mark directions to the restaurant and they decided to meet there at six. _This day won't be able to go fast enough._

***

Mark stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie and running his fingers through his hair repetitively. He needed to look just right. His hair was in place, and his tie had been untied and retied exactly five times. Everything felt right.

He turned off the lights, grabbed his keys and wallet, locked the door, and started walking towards his car. It wasn't until he reached the driver door that he thought the same question that always crossed his mind when he left the house.  
_Did I lock the door?_ Mark shook the obsessive thought from his mind as he entered his car. Of course he did. He always did.

_Am I sure I did this time, though? I should go check._

Mark bucked his seatbelt.

_Am I absolutely sure? I might not have - I should really check._

Mark started the car.

_What if I didn't? What if I forgot this time? What if someone breaks in while I'm gone and -_

Mark turned off the car, unbuckled his seatbelt, and hurried back up the driveway, all the while quietly cursing under his breath.

He reached the door and jiggled the knob irritably. 

_Locked. Of course._

Mark went back to his car, sighing as he started it once more and backed out into the street.

_Did I turn off the lights?_

Mark gripped the steering wheel tighter than he meant to and continued down the road. "Fucking christ, I'm ridiculous," he said aloud to no one.

If only he could figure out a way to hide it during his date. _Maybe it'll be okay._

_***_

"I asked if you were okay?" Snapping out of his thoughts, Mark suddenly looked up to see a pair of concerned blue eyes. 

"Oh, uh, yeah. I'm fine," Mark replied hastily.

Jack didn't seem convinced. "You sure?"

"Yeah, sorry, I just totally zoned out."

So far, the date had been going fairly well. Mark had spotted the Irish man immediately inside, (the green hair was kind of hard to miss), and together they requested a booth and were sat down rather quickly. Mark had to hand it to Jack; this place was very comfortable. It had a relaxed atmosphere, almost portraying a bit of a log cabin vibe to it. Despite the place not being entirely full, the room felt lively. Everyone here seemed to know each other, as if eating here was just one big family reunion. He could see why Jack would suggest it for a first date.

After ordering their food, the two had been talking nonstop. It turned out that Jack was from Ireland, having moved to America to pursue a career in animation or film. Mark listened as Jack talked passionately about videography and computers, not being able to help but notice how cute it was when Jack's eyes lit up when he talked about something he loved. 

They had discussed what they found to be both of their passions for gaming, too. Everything had been going smoothly. 

Until the food arrived. 

Mark was having a hard time focusing on the conversation at hand. Jack was an interesting guy and Mark found himself really enjoying his company, but all Mark could think about was how much the dish in front of him bothered him. It wasn't right. _My food is touching. My food is touching. My food is-_

"If you say so," Jack said with a kind smile. "Do you remember what ye were thinkin about?"

Mark shook his quickly. 

Figuring he shouldn't prod further, Jack nodded. "So, this food looks good, huh? I told ya this place was top notch!" He exclaimed proudly.

The Korean-German could only nod in response. This was going to be a long date...


	3. Enter Anti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's ability and schizophrenia get explained, along with the entrance of Anti's wonderful sassy self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. Okay, so, first off, hi. Yes, I am the one who writes this story, the one who has neglected to update in centuries. HOWEVER. The lovely Cj_Quinn72 gave me an AMAZING~ suggestion on where to take this, and I'm really quite happy with it. As you may have noticed, the summary has a changed a bit to fit the new direction of the story.  
> But! Fear not, the main focus of the story shall continue to be about Mark's OCD, as I intended, but I think this little addition allows me to write about other mental disorders and illnesses as well, which I think can only be good. Anyway, I did the best I could! Tell me what you guys think and as always, thanks for the supports guys :)

Jack watched Mark carefully as he stared down at his food. The poor man. Here he was, trying to seem so collected and laid-back on his date, but Jack knew. He always knew. He had just needed one good look at the constant fidgeting and careful watchfulness of Mark's tag along, and he knew. 

He had noticed Mark's mental illness right away. He hadn't lied to Mark, exactly - he really had noticed him initially in that cafe because of how strikingly attractive he was. His dark eyes, chiseled jaw line, and built body were enough to bring anyone to their knees. But the second thing Jack had noticed was the nervous figure right next to him. The one that watched Mark carefully as he sat down. The one that counted how many times Mark drummed his fingers against the table to make sure it was enough times. The one that patiently waited for people to order their food before urging Mark to get up after the fourth person. The one who was so satisfied and proud of Mark when he got the number five card, yet froze up when Jack offered to shake Mark's hand. There was no mistaking it. OCD. 

Jack had gotten pretty good at identifying people's different mental illnesses that followed them around. Since he developed this ability at age eighteen, he had years of experience and thus  became skilled at recognizing them over the years. The constant alertness and apprehension of anxiety, the despondency and apathy of depression, the sudden mood swings of bipolar disorder, the skewed perspective and diets of eating disorders..and the compulsions of OCD. 

Of course, it was not without its own drawback. At nineteen, his parents insisted he go to therapy for his "hallucinations" and "crazy rambling." However, what they called hallucinating and rambling, Jack called "talking to Anti."

Anti. The name Jack had given to his own illness. Jack did not know what he had, but he certainly had something alright, for he had his own tag along of sorts. A dark, opposite version of himself - the "Anti-Jack," if you will. 

At first, eighteen year old Jack had been startled by Anti's presence. He was staring at himself, and yet, it wasn't quite him, either. This opposite Jack was different from him entirely. _He_ wanted to go do and says things that the real Jack never would. Because of this contradiction, Jack found himself constantly arguing and bickering with Anti. 

But alas, he soon grew used to his companion. He didn't particularly like him, but he could deal with him. Sometimes, he could just be there for Jack to simply talk to when he was lonely, or if he had a problem, he could debate the pros and cons back and forth with him. Anti certainly wasn't a friend, for he still gave Jack hell and had quite the evil mind, but other aspects of his character weren't so terrible.

To his horror, Jack soon realized that he was the only one that could see or hear Anti. In the eyes of his parents, he was consistently mumbling to himself and having conversations with someone that just was not there. 

So, even after his futile attempt at an explanation, it hadn't taken the therapist long to diagnose him with schizophrenia.

He was crazy. Everyone said he was. And he himself knew that he must be. He tried to shun Anti out. He tried to ignore him. He told himself that if he pretended that he wasn't there, eventually he would just stop existing. It would be fine. He was normal.

But he wouldn't go away. The more Jack tried to forget him, the more persistent Anti had become. He told Jack he needed him for something. Something only Jack could do. It wasn't until Jack got partnered with a shy girl named Marzia in a class during his senior year that he realized what Anti meant. 

Right next to Marzia was another Marzia, only seemingly much more nervous. The second Marzia kept looking over her shoulder, bouncing her leg, biting her nails. She looked over at the group of people talking, leaned over to Marzia, and whispered _"They're probably talking about you."_ Marzia then also glanced over at the group, bit her lip, and went down to look at her paper. _"You know they don't like you. They're probably making fun of you right now."_  The second Marzia continued. 

That's when Jack learned: Marzia wasn't just shy; she had social anxiety. "Am I...am I seeing her social anxiety? Why doesn't she just tell her ta shut up or go away?" Jack wondered aloud to himself, voice barely at a whisper.

 _"She can't see her disorder, ya idiot."_  Jack turned his head to the left sharply, seeing Anti lazily spread out in the chair next to him with his feet lazily propped up on the desk. The smug bastard just loved to pop in randomly.

"Why not?" Jack asked, keeping his eyes on his paper. He couldn't look directly at Anti when he talked to him - at least, not in public. Not without looking insane. 

 _"Oh, so nooow you're talking ta me, eh?"_ Anti retorted with a grin that Jack could hear in his voice.

Jack clenched his fists. "Yes, now tell me what's going on," Jack replied softly, barely moving his lips. God, was it hard to be subtle.

_"About time, Jackaboy. I knew you'd miss me."_

"So help me god, if you don't tell me - "

_"Okay, okay! Jaesus. Look, so, you know how ye can see me, right?  Well, that's cause ya got a special kind of schizophrenia, ya doof. Only people with schizophrenia can see their own disorder - that's why their schizophrenic, they can see us as their disorder and actively talk to us._ _The rambling makes them look crazy ta others._ _Not all schizophrenics can see us, though. Some just have it and never know about us, which is unfortunate. But, either way, we're always the cause of their disorder. See? You should be happy that you can see me."_

Jack snorted at the remark. 

 _"Although, w_ _hat you have is just a weak start of it,"_ Anti continued. _"_ _Sometimes, those who can see their schizophrenia start to blur the lines between real life and fantasy, and it gets worse from there and becomes a severe case. Usually starts with seeing us, though. But yet again, they can't always see us. Such a shame,"_ Anti finished, shaking his head.

Jack let Anti's words settle in his mind. Does that mean he would go c-

_"That doesn't mean you'll necessarily go crazy, if that's what yer thinking."_

"I wasn't thinking that," Jack mumbled.

_"Riiight. Anyway, you probably won't, seeing as I'm tellin' ya about all of this. For the schizophrenics that can see us, we don't tell them what we are. We just mess with them and let them think they're insane."_

"Why tell me, then?

 _"Because you have such a winning personality,"_ Anti said sarcastically.

Jack shot him a glare, not caring if he looked crazy to others.

Anti laughed. _"Alright, alright. It's cause yer special, kid. Some schizophrenics can't see their disorder. Some can. You can, but you can also see everyone else's. Not another single living person can do that."_

Jack looked back at Marzia across from him. Her social anxiety was still whispering nasty things over her shoulder.

"So only I can see them?"

_" Correct."  
_

"But why?"

_"You ask too many questions, kid. I'm spent. I'll fill ya in on the rest when I think yer ready to know. Until then, I'll still be here to fuck with you and see what ya do with this thingy of yours. Have fun."_

"W-wait!" Jack said harshly under his breath. Marzia looked up at him, hearing his call. Jack coughed, trying to play it off. She stared at him for a few more moments before looking back down at her paper. 

_"Subtle."_

Jack rolled his eyes. "Do their disorders know I can see them?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

_"Yep. They know who you are. You could interact with them if ye wanted to, but they are stuck to their person. We can't leave yer side, so, the owner of said disorder will see you talking to something invisible next to them. Good luck explaining that."_

Jack nodded thoughtfully.

"Hey Anti? That means I'm not actually crazy, right?"

_"Crazy is subjective."_

"You know what I mean."

 _"And you know what I mean. That's your call to make. Maybe you are crazy. Maybe everyone else is. What difference does it make? Either way, you're different. You can do something that no one else can, and that's all that matters. Do good with it, do bad, I don't really care. Just do something with it. I'm just here for the ride, kiddo."_  

***

Now, Jack was on his date with Mark, the guy from the cafe with the OCD right next to him. Not only was he cute, but he seemed to try so hard as to not give a clue to his disorder. Jack saw through it, of course, but he admired Mark's attempts. 

So far, the date had gone wonderfully. But Jack could see Mark's OCD immediately perk up once he saw the food being brought to the table. So he's also obsessive about his food. Interesting.

Mark stared at his plate intensely. Jack asked if he was okay, and Mark had assured him that he was, so Jack didn't prod any further. If he was trying to stay strong in front of him, Jack wasn't going to push. 

Then Mark's OCD started speaking up for the first time during the date and leaned over to Mark.  _"Your food is touching. Your food is touching. Your food is - "_

"If you say so," Jack interrupted the disorder. It shot a glare at Jack for cutting him off. Anti stifled a laugh next to Jack, caught off guard by Jack's boldness.

Mark seemed relieved to be distracted and only nodded in response. Jack decided to comment on how good the food looked and began eating. If he had to watch Mark's disorder, the least he could do was ease its burden on Mark. 

Surprisingly, Anti had been quiet this entire time, patiently watching Jack and Mark converse. But _now_ \- now he was going to have some fun. 

 _"Oh Jaaack~"_ Anti sang as he sat right next to the Irish man in their booth. _"When are you going to tell him that you're also fucked up in the head?_ _"_

Mark's OCD looked up at Jack with a smirk, clearly amused by Jack's discomfort after being  interrupted. What a douche. Some disorders at least understood when Jack cut them off, but he just had to take it personality. Jack guessed OCD was just particularly serious about their rituals. He hadn't dealt with an OCD disorder before. Recognized them, yes, but he hadn't actually met one until Mark. Mark's disorder had this weird vibe about him, too...he was creepy, dark. Mark. Dark. Yeah, Dark, that's what he would call Mark's disorder. What a fitting name. 

Jack ignored Anti's comment and took a sip of his drink.

 _"C'mon Jackaboy. Tell him that you know about his OCD. Tell him you're schizophrenic. He'll think you're insane, won't he?"_ Anti teased. Sometimes Anti was alright to be around, sometimes he wasn't. Right now, it was the latter.

"Shut up," Jack mumbled to himself. 

"What was that?" Mark questioned as he picked up his fork, hearing Jack mumble something.

"N-nothing," Jack responded, slowly standing up. "I'll be right back..."

"O-okay," Mark replied as Jack walked away. Weird.

****

Jack quickly exited the restaurant and ran to the back. Once there, he slammed his back against the wall of the building and slid down it, catching his breath.

"Sh-shut up.." He said, clutching his head.

 _"Oh Jack,"_ Anti snickered, _"you know you can't hide it from him forever. Soon he'll find out that you've got problems, too."_

Jack looked up to face the inevitable. Anti stood towered over him, dark and ominous. Piercing blue eyes glared at him through dark green hair as a wicked smile crept along Anti's face.

_"You didn't think he just wouldn't find out, did you? Oh, Jack, Jack, Jack...after all we've been through? You know how it goes."_

"Shut up!" Jack shouted with more force. "Just leave me alone, alright?"

"...Jack?" a voice called to his left. Jack quickly looked in the direction of the voice, seeing Mark standing there, out of breath. He had followed him out. 

Anti chuckled. _"Have fun explaining this one, kid."_


	4. The Eye of the Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Mark finish up at the restaurant and head to Mark's house. Anti won't allow it without a fight.

Jack uneasily stood up to greet Mark.

"Hey..," Jack said while awkwardly brushing off his jeans. Anti folded his arms with amusement, eager to see how Jack would get himself out of this one.

"Who were you talking to....?" Mark asked.

"No one," Jack immediately responded defensively.

Anti cackled to the right of him. _"No one?! He fuckin' heard you!"_

Jack ignored his comment and kept his stare fixated on Mark.

"Really? 'Cause I definitely heard you talking..." Mark said.

_"Told you so."_

"Look, I just needed ta clear my head, ok? I'm just...nervous is all," Jack finished confidently. He wasn't completely lying, after all.

"About our date?" Mark asked.

"Yeah. Just needed some fresh air ta calm the nerves." Jack looked down at the ground and shifted the weight between his feet.

Mark gave him a knowing smile. "Well, I hope you know you were doing just fine. At least, I thought so."

Jack looked up to meet Mark's eyes and couldn't help but grin back. For a moment, they held their each other's gaze, and to Jack, all seemed right in the world.

_"Gag me."_

Jack ignore his reflex to turn his head to glare at Anti. He could see out of the corner of his eye that the disorder looked disgusted and was pretending to throw up at the very idea of Jack and Mark having a moment.

Jack cleared his throat. "Should we uh..ya know, head back in? I'd like to uh..continue this date, if that's alright with ya." 

"Uh, well actually, I uh...I already kinda paid the bill and everything. We both kind of can't leave the restaurant without paying, you know. I don't think they'd quite understand," Mark said gently.

The Irish man felt his stomach drop. "Wh-what? Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I'll-I'll pay ya back!" Jack frantically dug his wallet out of his pocket. "How much was it?"

"Don't worry about it. I don't mind."

"Are ya sure? It was s'pose ta be my treat..."

"I'm sure. But maybe something less formal? Dinner dates always feel weird to me," Mark suggested.

"Did ya have somethin' in mind?" Jack asked.

"Maybe you could come over? We could play some video games or something. I mean, I know it's kinda weird to have you over already, but I just thought we could just, like, hang out,  I mean if it's too weird than maybe not, but if it's okay with you, which it's perfectly fine if it's not-"

"Mark."

"Yeah?"

"I'd love that," Jack stated. Mark seemed as if he would have rambled on forever about how Jack could say no unless he had someone to save him from his worries. 

Mark grinned like a little kid. "Meet you at my place?"

***

The drive to Mark's house was painfully long. Sure, he could just follow behind Mark's car, finding his way there was no problem. It was Anti's commentary that made the ride hell.

 _"Sooooo, Jackaboy, why do you think he invited you to his house, eh?"_ Anti was relaxing in the passenger seat which his feet promptly propped up on the dashboard. His pale hands were folded across his stomach as he absentmindedly twiddled his thumbs. 

"What do ya mean? We're just playin' some games," Jack responded.

_"Ohh no. On the first date? How weird is that?"_

"Nothin' is weird about games."

_"Maybe, but at HIS house? Why would he offer that? I mean, unless..."_

Jack knew he would regret asking, but he did anyway. "Unless what?"

_"I'm just sayin,' you're in his domain now. I mean...what if he wants to hurt you? It would be the perfect opportunity. Maybe he will try to hurt you - or better yet, kill you. Who knows?"_

Jack's hands reflexively tightened around the steering wheel as he felt the familiar paranoia set in. He knew it all too well.

_"He's probably out to get you. Just like everyone else is."_

A small chuckle left the Irish man's mouth lightly as he tried to force his hands to loosen. "I know what you're doing. It's not going to work this time."

_"Aww, why's that? It certainly has before. Don't you remember last September? Now that was fun."_

The shameful memory quickly flashed through Jack's mind before he pushed it out. "Mark wouldn't do that. It's not real," he said through gritted teeth.

 _"Maybe not. Or maybe it is. Or wait - you can't tell the difference anymore, can you? What can you be sure of, Jackaboy?"_ Anti chuckled. Oh, how he loved making Jack squirm. 

"It's not - it's not real. It's not." Jack's voice cracked.

All of sudden, Jack's attention shifted to the sound of knocks on the driver's window. His eyes widened.

There was Mark, knocking on Jack's car window, gesturing for him to roll it down. Jack quickly glanced around. He was...in Mark's driveway? When had they arrived? When had he parked? How?

Jack tried to act casual as rolled the window down. 

"Hey man, you alright? When you didn't get out right away, I got worried," Mark asked, his edges of his voice hinting concern.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good! Sorry, uh, my car's been makin' a funny sound lately and I was just testing to see if it was gonna do it again."

 _"Yeah, it kinda sounded like 'you're a liiarrrrrrrrrrrrrr.'"_ Anti teased next to him.

Jack didn't flinch at the remark.

"Oh. Is it all good?" Mark asked.

"Yeah! Sorry for the hold up!" Jack eagerly exited the car and followed Mark up to the front door. The Korean-German was unlocking the door as he began rambling about his dog, Chica, but Jack's mind was elsewhere. 

How had he managed to drive and park? Surely, this was a new dangerous concern Jack had to keep in check. 

Just as Mark was about to let them in, a sleek-looking car pulled up smoothly in front of the house. Through the tinted window of the windshield, Jack could make out a bright-haired driver. As the driver exited the vehicle,  Jack realized he was much younger than he had anticipated. The bright hair Jack had noticed turned out to be a vibrant blue.

"How are the lovebirds?!" The blue-haired man shouted at them.

Jack chuckled at the remark, but Mark seemed to be flustered.

"You said you wouldn't say that in front of him! What the hell, Ethan?!"

Ethan giggled and threw his hands up. "I had to, man."

He made his way over to the two of them and stuck out his hand to Jack.

"Nice to meet you, Jack."

Jack gave him a firm handshake and looked up to meet Ethan's eyes. They were cool and cheerful, opposite of Mark's warm and soothing eyes.

"What are ya'll doin here?" Ethan asked. 

"We just came back to play some games and all," Mark explained.

"Cool. How was the food though?" Ethan inquired curiously. As Mark began to recount the kind of food they had eaten, Jack found his attention drawn  to a mysterious figure next to Ethan. 

Was that...? No way....

Jack stared in awe at the sight before him. There was Ethan...and then there was a darker, shadowy Ethan beside him. Jack quickly recognized the being as none other than depression, radiating gloominess and apathy. 

It always caught Jack off guard how the happiest people seemed to be harboring the darkest of demons.

However, Jack's initial surprise that Ethan had depression quickly turned into confusion, because there was something unusual about this disorder. Rather than be out and about, pestering poor Ethan and attempting to make him feel terrible thoughts, he was dredging behind him in shackles, his hands handcuffed behind his back, and duct tape over his mouth.

Jack walked a little away from Ethan and Mark, acting as if he was busy texting someone on his phone. 

"Hey Anti, why is- " Jack started in a hushed tone.

_"Looks like he's beaten his depression."_

Jack's eyes widened in surprise. "He beat his depression?"

_"That is what I just said, yes."_

Jack ignored the snide remark and looked up from his phone to stare in amazement at Ethan's tied up counterpart. 

"That's...incredible."

_"Eh. What a pathetic sap._ _Can't even plague his own human._ _"_

"How did Ethan manage to do that?"

_"How would I know? Depression isn't my area. Making you lose your sense of reality is."_

Jack scoffed.

 _"Speaking of which, I think it's been far too long since that has happened, eh? I mean, since you've truly had an episode. What do you think?"_ Anti taunted.

"Don't fuck with me. You'll have your time. But I can't afford it right now. There's work to be done, you know that."

Anti smirked. He'd let Jack have his way. For now. But Anti knew that soon enough, it was going to be just like old times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE  
> FORGIVE ME FOR MY HIATUS  
> Sorry I never really warned anybody. In fact, I don't know if anybody will still read this or not, it's been so long. It's just that I had writer's block for a long time, but the creative juices were flowing particularly today, and I promised myself I would get this out today. Please forgive me for the delay, but the wait is over. I sincerely hope you all enjoyed, and tell me what you think! :)


	5. Of Mugs and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon seeing a specific item on Mark's counter, Jack recounts what happened last September.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After another short hiatus, I return again! I deeply apologize for such long waits, but I do hope that they are worth it. Also, after all of the recent Antisepticeye and Darkiplier hype, I thought now was a particularly good time for an update. I hope you all don't mind if the focus of this is equally on mental illness as it is on the romance, but I want establish some good backstory first. This is whole thing is rough, I know, so any and all feedback is much appreciated! I love you all <3

***

_"Jack? ...Jack?"_

_Sharp heels shakily clicked  down the hallway. Mrs. McLoughlin's heart beat quickened with each passing second that she couldn't find her son._

_Even though he was twenty-six years old and seemed to have his illness under control, something had seemed...off with him lately._

_She recognized the signs. Jack would retreat to his room for the whole day when he realized he was saying things or believing things that weren't making sense, when he felt....what did he call it?_

_She furrowed her brow trying to remember the name that Jack had so often uttered in distress._

_Anti. Yes, when he felt Anti coming on. Jack had claimed that "Anti" would seep into his head and convince him of the thoughts and the fears and the fantasies that the therapist and everyone else perceived as schizophrenia._

_"Be there for him," the therapist would tell her. "He needs support, he needs to know he's not alone."_

_But how could she be there for him...when she didn't want to be? She didn't want anything to do with Jack or his mental illness. At the time same time, she hated that she felt that way. She was his mother, she should be there for him, but she was terrified of him._

 

 _And now here she was, desperately searching for her son in her small house. Jack had decided to come home to visit the family, just spend a week or two reconnecting with them. She had allowed him over enthusiastically, of course. He was her son, and s_ _he had always loved Jack -"of course I love my sweet Jackaboy!" as she told everyone- she just didn't...like him. Why couldn't he have just been born normal?_   

_But now, as she continued to look for Jack, the truth was creeping upon her._

_She opened the door on her left sharply. Empty. Not in his room, not this time. There was one more place to check._  

_Jack wasn't where she thought he would be, and he still wasn't worried about him. She was forced to face the truth._

_She didn't love him. She didn't love her youngest son, Sean._

_She should be concerned. She should be wondering if her son was alright, if he was physically and mentally okay.  
But all she felt was fear. She was scared for her own life. _

_She was scared of Jack._

 

_So, when she found Jack in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, using a kitchen knife to stab_ _a sheet of paper with illegible notes scribbled all over it , that was the final straw._

_Jack was not allowed there again. Her son or not, he was clearly a danger to others and surely a danger to herself._

_At least, that's how she justified it._

_But Jack argued back._

_"I wasn't goin' ta hurt anybody! Anti - he was puttin' all these bad thoughts in my head, so I wrote them all down! I-I don't know where the knife came from, I'm sorry, but I was tryin' ta destroy them! I mean it sounds crazy and maybe I am but I promise ya I wasn't convinced of anything bad!" Jack spluttered out as he followed his mom down the hallway and into the kitchen._

_She didn't turn around._

_"Sean McLoughlin, you had a KNIFE. You don't know what you were doing or why you had it. Next thing I know you might use it on me."  
_

_Jack froze. "I would never ma! Why would you even think that?! I love you!"_

_The Irish woman froze rigid in place. Those three words that Jack could easily say to her were words she simply could not return._

_"Jack. I think it's time for you to leave."_

_"Ma-"_

_"GET OUT!" She shrieked, briskly turning around to face him. She barely noticed that her elbow had bumped the purple mug that had been perched at the end of the counter until it hit the floor and shattered._

_The impact of porcelain on the tile floor created a new kind of silence between them. Jack looked down at the purple fragments on the ground. He had given his mother that mug ten birthdays ago, when sixteen-year-old Jack had barely any money to buy her a birthday present. She liked the color purple, so he bought the first purple thing he found within his price range._

_Now it lay shattered between them, all the loving memories of the past broken with it. That was the only sign Jack needed._

_Without another word, Jack picked up his jacket from a nearby chair, gave his mother one last look, and left the house._

_As Jack headed down the road from his house, not really caring where he was walking, Anti decided to speak up._

_"Well, looks like it's just you and me now, kid."_

_Jack looked at Anti incredulously. "Can't you see what you've done? I didn't want this - I never wanted any of this! This is all your fault!"_

_"Aw c'mon now Jackaboy, that's no way to be," Anti purred._

_Jack stared at Anti hard._

_"I hate you. I fucking hate you. I wish you never existed." Jack put every last bit of the hatred he had into every word, practically spitting venom at Anti._

_"Aaand that's where the problem lies. Don't you see, Jack?"_

_Jack kept walking._

_Anti sighed._

_"I'm you, Jack. That's how you feel about yourself."_

_***_  
Jack was jolted from his memories by a shifting golden retriever on his lap. Chica had gone from resting in his lap to licking his face lovingly. Jack grinned and gave her a good pet behind her ears, which Chica welcomed. 

He looked back up at Mark's counter. There, atop a stack of various papers, was a purple coffee mug, similar to the one his mom had shattered that fateful September day. Upon close inspection, it clearly wasn't the same mug, but it was similar enough to take Jack's memories back to that day. 

_"Listen kid, I'm not one much for these kind of things, but uh...this is a date, right? I mean, I love fuckin' with ya, but do try to have some fun, kid. Ol' Markimoo doesn't seem too bad."_

Jack's eyes widened at Anti's statement. He glanced over at Mark and Ethan, engrossed in a competitive game of Mario Kart while Jack wanted to meet Chica first. He let out a content sigh.

Sometimes, maybe Anti wasn't all that bad. 

But if and Mark were gonna get serious one day, he would have to tell him eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much as always, if anybody out there is still reading my random updates of this little story, anyway. I can only hope the struggles can hit home with some of you, as Jack's mom is the parent that just does not understand his illness. Of course, most parents still love their children, but unfortunately, some are not the good parents that we need them to be. Hopefully some of you can find some kind of relatable aspects in any part of the story, or perhaps it drew attention to a different perspective to you. (Sorry if this is all a bit more serious than normal, but this chapter was a bit more serious and sad than most, so I thought it was appropriate to treat it as such.)  
> To anybody in any kind of mental battle against an illness or disorder, stay strong. There is always somewhere to go and get help, whether it be a friend or a service of some kind. I believe in you <3


	6. Never a Bother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some late night texts, and a friend in need.

“I’m — I’m just overthinking this,” Jack said with a sigh. He had been pacing his room in circles, wondering how he could talk to Mark without sounding crazy.

“ _Oh, what a shaaame, I wonder whose fault that is…_ ” Anti chimed.

Jack made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Thank ya, Anti. Always appreciate ya.”

“ _Why do you care so much, anyway? You barely know him.” “_

I know him!”

Anti raised an eyebrow. “ _Oh, do you? C’mon, how many dates have there been? Three? You think that’s enough to know a person? Know if they like you? What if he’s pretending?”_

“I…” Jack looked down at that ground and took a deep breath in. “I do know him, and don’t you try to convince me otherwise,” Jack declared. “I’m going to text him right now.”

“ _And say what, exactly?_ ”

Jack had no idea. Regardless, he picked up his phone anyway and began typing, hyper-aware of Anti watching over his shoulder.

 **Hey Mark. I just want to let you know that I think that things are going really great. I really love our time together. But, if we are to continue, I think that there is something I should tell you. It’s nothing too crazy —** Anti scoffed teasingly over Jack’s shoulder **— but something I think that you have a right to know about. I need you to hear me out, okay? Please know that this is very difficult for me and something that I have never ever told anyone else abo —**

In the middle of Jack typing his paragraph, three little dots begin moving next to Mark’s name. Jack glanced at the time on his phone — 1:40 am — and felt surprise that Mark was also up this late. What could he feel the need to text at this hour? He decided to withhold his message until Mark sent his.

Then the dots went away.

And then they came back.

And then they went away again.

The dots appeared and disappeared two more times, with Mark sending the message during the fifth time he typed it. Jack smiled. Mark’s OCD was awake and kicking, even at this ungodly hour. He wondered if anyone else knew that Mark’s OCD even applied to menial tasks like texting, or knew about it at all for that matter. How would Mark feel once he discovered Jack knew about his mental illness before Mark had a chance to tell him?

_“You going to read it or just think there, Plato?”_

Jack rolled his eyes before he rested them on the message before him.

 **M: Hey Jack. I know it’s incredibly late, I’m so sorry for bugging you right now. But I haven’t been able to sleep and I won’t be able to until I get this off my chest. I’m really worried about Ethan. He’s been acting pretty weird lately. I don’t why, but I haven’t seen him in a while. I’ve asked him to hang out, but he always says he’s busy. Which would be fine, except some of his friends have reached out to me asking if I’ve been able to get ahold of him or see him lately, because they haven’t, either. Now he’s just stopped replying to our texts and answering our phone calls. He hasn't been seeing anyone, talking to anyone, and no one is sure he's even left his house in days. This is very unlike him and I’m really concerned. I just don’t what I’d do if he were going through something alone, you know? I don’t want to bother him but at the same time I’m really scared for him. I don’t what to do. Again, sorry this is so late (or early depending on how you look at it, actually) and I’m sorry to bother you with this, but I can’t think about anything else right now.** 1:45 a.m.

_“Awww, someone seems a wittle depwessed.”_

Jack slowly exhaled, letting go of the breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding.

“So his depression has come back?”

_“So it would seem.”_

Jack stared hard at his phone for a good thirty seconds before deleting his previously typed message and replying cautiously. He decided that while that conversation would have to happen soon, other things were more important right now.

 **J: First off, you’re never a bother. Secondly, not to be bold, but have you tried visiting him? If he’s not responding, I’m not sure there’s much else to do but try to visit him in person. I’m sure he’d understand that you’d want to check up on him as his friend.** 1:49 a.m.

Jack sighed. He didn’t know if he was giving good enough advice.

 **M: No, I haven’t. I actually have his spare key — he gave it to me years ago when we used to just randomly come over and crash at each other’s places. Not that I would just barge in, but if he’s left us no other choice I don’t know what else to do. I haven’t been over there yet because I guess I’m just...scared of what I might find. I don’t want to go alone Jack, will you go with me in the morning?** 1:51 a.m.

A slight smile found its way across Jack’s face.

 **J: Of course I will. Try to get some sleep for now though, okay?** 1:52 a.m.

 **M: Thanks, Jack. That really means a lot to me. And I’ll try my best! Sweet dreams.** 1:53 a.m.

 **J: Sweet dreams. <3** 1:53 a.m.

 **M: <3** 1:53 a.m.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya there folks! It's been uh...it's been a while. Oops. If any of ya'll remember this story in its infancy and have been here for a long time, not only am I impressed, but grateful for your dedication. Even though it's been quite the hiatus, thank for giving this story a chance :) Comments are appreciated!!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and I'll see you...in the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Also, let me mention that I got the original idea for this when I came across an interesting poem. It's called 'OCD" by Neil Hilborn. It's definitely worth checking out and was an inspiration for this fic.  
> Thanks for reading! :)


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